Harry Potter and the Waters of Immortality
by Watcher6
Summary: No power is strictly Light or Dark, not even Parseltonggue. It's seventh year and Harry recieves a strange vision of a woman who has something the Dark Lord wants: the key to Immortality.
1. In the Beginning

Author's Notes:  The only thing that has been revised  in this chapter is the Author Notes, so no worries.

Disclaimer:  The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros. and the various other kazillion people who have rights.  I'm not one of them.  I am doing this for entertainment purposes only and am not making a cent.  They are gods, I am a puny mortal.

Spoilers: Everything up to and including Order of the Phoenix.  Be warned.

This story, so far, contains references to a romantic relationship between Ron and Hermione and not-so-subtle references to romantic interest in Hermione by Harry.  If you can't stand R/He, there isn't much.  If you can't stand Ha/He, I don't know what to tell ya, 'cause it sort of matters to Harry and, like the books, this is from his POV.

Okay, I think that covers everything.  Enjoy!!

*****

Harry looked out the window at the fast approaching sight of Hogwarts.  He sighed, the lights of the beautiful castle already making him reminiscent.  It was his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he knew he would never again have the opportunity to watch the glittering lights from the carriages with his friends.  At the thought of his two companions, Harry turned.  Ron and Hermione, who were both sitting across from him, were also looking out the windows, sadness leaking into their expressions.  Hermione must have felt his eyes on her and turned, favoring him with a small smile.

This last summer had been the one of the best for Harry so far.  He had turned seventeen not far into the summer and, as predicted, the Dursleys had promptly kicked him out, at exactly midnight, to be precise.  Fortunately, Harry was already packed and had been counting down the seconds.  Mr. Weasley, Ron, the twins, and Remus had been waiting for him in a car outside.  They were there to help him move his stuff into Grimmauld Place where he would be staying until school.  The dingy house, which belonged to Remus since Sirius' death, had been cleaned a great deal by the Weasley's, even more so than the previous two summers.  Still, the place had been lonely without his godfather, but it was not nearly as painful as it had been last summer.

The carriages slowed and stopped before the great doors of the entrance hall of Hogwarts.  They all clambered out and looked around.  Harry shuddered away from the thestrals, their white eyes rolling to look at him.  He always had the creepy feeling that the people he knew that were dead, Sirius, Cedric, his Mum and Dad, watched him with eyes like those.  He knew it was just his imagination, but it still bothered him.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Hermione asked, walking up with her hand in Ron's.  He looked over at the couple.

"Nothing," he said, jabbing a thumb at the thestrals.  "They just creep me out, as usual."

Ron looked at the thestrals with an indescribable expression.  It had shocked him greatly last year when, after watching Percy's death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, he had gone to the carriages to go home and saw the thestrals hitched to them.  He had spoken very little through the ride.  Hermione, however, had this unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on your view) habit of being unconscious when people die so she still could not see them.  Her eyes wandered to where the winged horses were and looked right through them.  She frowned slightly.

"Why don't we head up to the welcoming feast?" she suggested, pulling Ron with her as she headed toward the entrance hall.  Harry followed behind them, lost in thought.

*****

Harry opened his eyes slowly, rubbing the sleep out of them.  Last night's Sorting had passed by in a blur.  The bright eyes and scared faces of the new first years had bothered Harry.  Once, he had a flash of their wide-eyed faces frozen in death.  That had been the point where he started ignoring the Sorting.

He slowly crawled out of bed and changed for the day, running his fingers through his wild hair.

"Hey, mate."  Harry turned and saw Ron dressing for the day.  "Ready to go down to breakfast?"

Harry nodded, his stomach growling.  "I wonder if Hermione is up yet," he pondered out loud.  Ron laughed.

"Knowing Hermione, she's impatiently prowling downstairs, waiting for us to get down so she can grace us with an all-powerful gaze to show how much lazier we truly are than her, then she shall smile and everything would be alright and she would smile and take my hand and your arm and we would walk down to breakfast together."

"I don't believe you," Seamus snorted.

Ron raised his eyebrows.  "What, you don't think we know Hermione that well?"

"It's not that you don't know Hermione well.  You know her better than anybody.  I just don't believe she is that predictable."

Harry smiled softly.  "Five galleons say that Ron's right."

"Better make that ten," Ron added.

Seamus smirked.  "I'll see that.  What about you, Dean?"

Dean looked between the four of them.  "Well, it is my belief that Hermione would not waste the time to prowl if she had a book to read so I think she will be reading when we get downstairs."

Seamus turned.  "Neville?"

"I… really couldn't say."

Harry felt a momentary pang of guilt.  He knew that Neville was refraining out of respect for Hermione.  It made him a little queasy that he started it, but he tried to shrug it off.

"Okay," Ron said.  "Let's do this."

Ron and Harry climbed down the stairs to the main common room, Seamus, Dean, and Neville close behind them.  When they reached to bottom, they saw Hermione in the center of the room, her hands clasped behind her back like she had been pacing.  She immediately dropped them when she saw them.  "What took you guys so long?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ron shrugged as he walked up.  "Well, you know.  Had to wake up his lazy ass," he said, jerking his thumb in Harry's direction.

Hermione gave an indelicate snort.  "Sure you did," she said, sliding her hand into his.  She turned to Harry.  "So, how long did you have to wait?"

"Oh," Harry sighed casually, picking imaginary lint off his robe, "not as long as usual."


	2. Arguements

Ron pretended to look offended as Hermione laughed, threading her arm through Harry's.  Together, they started walking towards the portrait hole.  Harry noticed Ron glancing over his shoulder over Hermione's head and looked around behind them.  Seamus was looking after them with a sour expression on his face as Dean looked around the common room, almost as if he expected a book to materialize before him.  Neville, strangely, had a disquieted look on his face.  As Harry frowned, Ron stopped them.  "Just a sec, Hermione," he said and quickly ran back to Seamus and Dean, no doubt to collect.  Hermione looked up and saw Harry's frown.

"Harry, is something wrong?" she asked, leaning into him.  Harry brought himself out of his daze and looked at her.  She was very close, enough to make him nervous.  An image of Cho in the Room of Requirement back in his fifth year sprang to his mind and he ducked his head, hiding his face from her.  He hadn't been kissed since that day and, although he knew that Hermione was with Ron and he was very happy for them, her tendency to touch him and lean in close to him made him nervous.

"No, nothing," he said, wincing when his voice trembled.  He felt her hand as it cupped his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.  She was too close.

"Ready?" Ron asked, walking up.  Hermione turned to him with a smile.  Harry blushed lightly and turned away again, getting angry with himself.  Why did it bother him so much?  It obviously meant nothing to her.  Even Ron, who had a small jealous streak, was unperturbed by her tendency to touch him.  He stepped forward through the portrait hole before she could snag his arm again.

He was several yards away from the common room when they called out to him.  "Harry, wait up!  Not so fast!"  He paused, sighing as they ran up.  They walked in silence for a little while.  Then, the other shoe dropped.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked tentatively.  Harry was known to blow up when asked that question one too many times, so he really couldn't blame her, but the hesitance in her voice hurt him.  He sighed.

"I'm fine, Hermione."  He didn't even need to look at her to know that she didn't believe him.  His nervousness, however, made him feel the need to put her mind to rest so that she would drop it.  "Really," he added.  "I'm just… in a strange humor, I suppose."

He could almost feel the sideways glance shared by his two best friends.  "Are you sure?" Hermione asked in a doubtful voice.

He nodded and turned to favor her with a smile.  The concern in her eyes made his chest tight, but he pretended he didn't see it.

"Relax, Hermione," Ron said, trying to distract his girlfriend.  "You know how Harry is.  He could smile and nod his way through the end of the world."

Needless to say, this did not cheer her up.  Harry decided to take matters into his own hands.  "Actually, I was just worried about that bet that Ron made with Seamus and Dean.  How much money did you make on that?"

Ron eyes widened in surprised shock.  Hermione stopped walking, favoring Ron with narrowed eyes.  "What bet?"

Ron gave her his best impression of a suffocating fish.  She turned back to Harry.  "What bet?"

"Ron made a guess on what you would be doing when we got down to the common room and Seamus took him up on it."

Her gaze swiftly turned to Ron.  "Now, wait one minute.  You started that bet."  Her gaze turned back to Harry.  He just shrugged.

"I'm not the one with the galleons in his pocket, mate."

Ron, flabbergasted, didn't know what to say about that.  Hermione stared at Ron for a moment, then looked at Harry.  She looked him up and down for a moment, then, so that Ron couldn't see, she slowly smiled and favored Harry with a wink.  Maintaining her disdain, she disentangled herself from Ron, took Harry's arm, and continued to the Great Hall.

After Ron was out of earshot, Harry quietly asked Hermione, "How did you know?"

"You, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville never come down at the same time.  Neville looked a touch upset and Ron and Seamus looked almost smug.  Dean looked expectant.  You, however," and she looked at him, as if trying to read him, "looked blasé, as if it was any other day.  Then, of course, there was Ron going to collect money from Seamus."

Harry nodded and faced forward.  "You're not mad?"

She shrugged.  "No, I guess not.  It's immature and you both should know better, but I suppose you can't help yourselves.  Must be the testosterone."  They were quiet for a moment.  "Harry, I know you told me about the bet to get me to leave you alone.  I know something is wrong and I wish you would tell me.  Your developing ability to act like nothing is wrong is just a little upsetting."  He opened his mouth to retort but she raised her hand to quiet him.  "If you don't want to tell me, that's your business.  It's not okay, but I can't make you.  I just really wish you would.  Whatever it is that we're doing to upset you won't go away unless we know what it is.  That's all."

Harry was dumbstruck.  How could she not know?  "Gee, Hermione," Harry said, pulling his arm out of hers as they reached the Great Hall.  "I guess you're not as good at reading people as you thought."  He walked over to the Gryffindor table, Hermione lagging behind.

Harry was already eating as she sat down across from him, Ron beside her.  Hermione looked upset, but Harry was tired of her trying to guilt him into telling her what was wrong.  If she couldn't figure it out than he wasn't going to tell her.  Besides, deep down he felt awful about how mixed his feelings were over her.  She was Hermione, his best friend, and Ron's _girlfriend_.  He shouldn't be so confused over her.

Ron looked between the two of them, Hermione picking at her food and Harry ignoring her.  "Is something wrong?"

Harry grit his teeth.  He was really beginning to get irritated.  "No, Ron.  Nothing's wrong," Hermione replied before he could think of a scathing remark.  She sounded tired.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Ron turned to get a confirmation from Harry, but he ignored him.  Ron shrugged and started on his breakfast.

They all ate in strained silence.  It seemed strange to Harry that after six years his friends still had trouble understanding him.  He gave up on trying to be sullen at the beginning of sixth year.  Being angry at everyone was nothing more than a good way to get a firm talking to by both Hermione and Ginny, Ron's younger sister.  After their talks, he always felt like he was the one in error and that he had no right feeling the way he did around them.  So he didn't.  He started putting on an unconcerned face whenever he was upset.  This seemed to pacify Ginny, though he had a feeling that the shrewd girl knew exactly what he was doing, but Hermione always seemed to know when he was upset.  She didn't always question him, but she didn't understand the source of his discomfort around her so she questioned him about it.  Harry understood this, but he felt he didn't have to appreciate it.

Just then, Professor McGonagell came around the table, passing out their schedules.  Harry looked at his.  He only had five classes, Advanced Potions, Defense against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures.  Today was Care of Magical Creatures and a free period in the morning and double Defense in the afternoon.

"What have you got, mate?" Ron asked as he glanced over Harry's shoulder.

"Care of Magical Creatures in the morning and Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon," he replied.  "What about you?"

"Same," Ron said.  "Loving the free period," he remarked as he shoved a piece of toast in his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "That's so you can catch up on all the homework you will have for your classes.  Seeing as this is our last year, we should be expecting a lot."

"What have you got?" Harry asked her.

"The same, except I have Arithmancy during your free period."

Ron's eyes went wide.  "You mean we have a free period without Hermione badgering us?  Wicked!"

The glare Hermione sent him would have melted a lesser man.  Harry shook his head, glad her ire wasn't focused on him.  Than again, he didn't exactly try the way Ron did.  Must have something to do with being in love.

On that disturbing thought, Harry stood, trying to ignore the feelings that rose in him.  "We're going to be late," he said, grabbing a final piece of toast.


	3. Nagas and Visions

Author's Note:  Three things.

1) I can't write accents to save my life, so I apologize if Hagrid sounds strange.

2) /word/ denotes parseltongue

3) For those who are reading this, I really am trying to get to the point.  Please bear with me.

Enjoy!

* * *

  


The soft wind tossed Harry's jet-black hair as he, Ron, and Hermione walked across the lawn to Hagrid's hut for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson.  They were eager to see Hagrid, if not what creature he brought.  They saw the gamekeeper's tall form standing behind his hut, one hand firmly holding his black boarhound, Fang, in place.  Before him was a very large crate.  Harry eyed it nervously as he stepped up.

"Okay, everyone, gather 'round," said Hagrid, beckoning the Gryffindors closer as the Slytherins, lead by Malfoy, idly made their way over.

"So, I wonder what monster is going to try to eat us this week," Malfoy said, sneering at Harry.  Harry meant to glare back, but a low hiss from the crate stopped him.  It sounded like a warning.

"Right.  Today we are going to be looking at a naga."

"Naga?" Harry asked.  He looked at Hermione and Ron.  Ron looked nervous and Hermione shot him a sideways glance.

"Well, Potter," said Malfoy.  "Looks like this will be right up your alley."

"Er, well, yeah," Hagrid mumbled.  "Naga's are giant serpents, snakes, found in India.  They have jewels in the middle of their foreheads that give the snake its magic powers.  Its bite is extremely venomous, but its not likely te bite."

Again, a low hiss rolled out of the crate.  "Don't count on it," Harry murmured.  Ron and Hermione and, strangely, Malfoy all glanced at him.

"Now, it is hard to get your hands on one of these little devils, but most wizards find they are well worth the trouble.  Ye see, the naga's magic, generated by the jewel, is very powerful and can actually be felt by touching the creature."  Hagrid lifted the top of the crate.  "Who wants to try?"

No one moved.

"Make Potter do it," Malfoy said.  Hagrid frowned at him.  Harry and Ron glared.  "He's a parseltongue.  The snake's not likely to bite him."

Everyone looked at Harry.  Hagrid rumbled thoughtfully, turning to Harry.  "Do you want to try?"

Harry mentally sighed.  Why him?  "Sure."

He walked up and cautiously peered over the edge of the crate.  A large snake was curled at the bottom.  It turned its head, which was as large as Harry's hand, to him.  The naga was a beautiful green, but the jewel was as deep and rich as a perfect gemstone, a brilliant, unfathomable green, with eyes that matched.  Harry was pulled away from his observation of the serpent by a presence behind him.  Malfoy was standing close, literally leaning over his shoulder.  They glared at each other momentarily, faces inches away, as the rest of the students gathered close.

A low hiss of warning turned Harry's attention back to the beautiful serpent.  It raised its head, observing the students.  It seemed agitated.  "/Hello/," Harry hissed, startling several people.  The naga looked at him, seemingly surprised.

"/You speak the language of the split-tongued ones?/"

"/Yes./"

"/It has been long since I have heard the language from a human tongue.  Where are we?/"

"/We are at my school.  We are learning about nagas./"  Harry smiled sheepishly.  "/You are our lesson./"

The naga blinked at him.  "/I see./"

"/May I touch you?/"  Harry asked politely.

The naga nodded.

"What did you say to it?" Lavender asked, curious.  Harry glanced at her.

"He wanted to know where we were.  I told him and asked if I could touch him," he replied, reaching into the crate.  The naga never moved, patiently waiting for his hand.  His fingers touched the tip of its nose and power coursed through his hands in a warm pulse.  Harry slowly ran his hand over the naga, carefully stroking its face.  Harry's fingers tentatively touched the jewel.  Power rolled through his body in a thrilling rush.  The naga hissed in approval as Harry's eyes slid closed, his head lolling in the dizzying rush.

Something hard slammed Harry in the back, sending him sprawling into the crate.  His hand slipped, one finger poking the naga in the eye.  The serpent hissed in fury and blindly snapped, biting Harry.  He cried out, yanking his hand back, cradling it to him.  He backed quickly from the crate, everyone quickly following his lead.  He glanced up into Malfoy's smirking face.

"Quiet!"  Hagrid shouted.  Everyone stilled.  "I've got an antivenom potion for you, Harry," he said, searching his pockets.

Harry turned to look at Hagrid and the world spun around him.  He paused, swaying o the spot.  He glanced down.  Blood flowed in a thick stream from underneath his clasped hand.  Which was actually on his wrist.  His heart sank as he lowered his hand.  Blood pulsed from his wrist were the naga's large fangs had not only bite him, but had slashed open the flesh.  Lavender screamed.  Harry's vision started to go dark as he bonelessly slid to his knees.  It didn't even hurt.

"Harry!" cried Hagrid as the world went black.

* * *

  


Hot sand warmed the soles of Harry's bare feet.  A warm desert wind blew across his chest and made the thin white cotton slacks flap loosely around his legs.  He noticed the change of locale and clothing, or lack thereof, with a detached, almost clinical, observation.  He felt strangely peaceful.  He slowly walked through this desert, not thinking, not feeling, at peace with the warm air that caressed his skin and tosseled his hair.

A soft hiss in parseltongue echoed through the air.  He stopped, not raising his glance from the sand.  Again the compelling female voice echoed through the air.  He raised his eyes and saw before him a breezy white tent made of thin cotton.  He slowly walked forward and stepped inside.

The tent was cool and dim, the ground covered in rough leather.  White pillows littered the floor.  In the back of the tent stood a beautiful woman dressed in a simple white gown.  A collar of gold lay across her breasts and shoulders.  Her silky black hair caressed her shoulders, held back from her eyes by a circlet that formed a serpent on her forehead.  A white gauze cape cloaked her body, accenting the arms bedecked in thick gold bracelets and armbands in the shape of snakes.  Her eyes were a brilliant green with bizarre slitted pupils and were heavily lined with black kohl.  An enormous serpent had wound its way around her and in her hand she held a gold water pitcher.  Before her was a stone pillar with a large gold bowl on it.

Harry stepped forward towards the woman.  When he reached her, he sank to his knees onto the pillows before the pillar.  She turned her wrist, pouring crystal water from the pitcher into the bowl.  When the water settled, she resumed her position.  He looked down into the reflective water, at first seeing only his face.  He noticed, for the first time, the very pale perfection of his skin, the obsidian contrast of his tossled hair, and the brilliance of his jeweled eyes, similar to the glory of hers.  Even the scar seemed complementary.  Before his eyes, it began to fill with blood.  In a few moments it had began to ooze and two drops fell, shattering the perfection of the crystal water.  The blood, however, did not dissipate.  It remained concentrate, centering themselves over his eyes until they glowed scarlet.  Like Voldemort's.

Harry glanced up at the woman.  Her face remained neutral.  He looked back down at the disturbing red.  He lifted one hand and touched the water, cupping the drops of blood.  He scooped the blood up.  It turned into sand and he tossed it away.


	4. Hospital Wing

Author's Note:  I have most the main plot of this story already written out but the events are so scattered that I felt it needed a subplot to help it move from point to point.  That's about the time my muse hit the road to Vegas.  I'm sorry if this is a little… dull.  I'm trying to get back into the swing of things.  It also unbetaed, so forgive any mistakes you may find.

Thank you so much to those people who reviewed, especially coconut-ice agent h/h.  I had been considering not finishing, but as long as at least one person's interested… So everyone, please review. *g*

~*~

"Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes.  The world blurred in dizzying colors around him.  Out of habit, he groped blindly to his right for his glasses.  Finding them, he put them on then cautiously opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was Hagrid's big, scraggly face above his, looking as if he was about to bawl any moment.  The second was Dumbledore's white hair, beard, and half moon spectacles over which peered bright blue eyes that, for some reason, weren't sparkling.

Harry carefully sat up and glanced around him.  He was in the hospital wing.  Hermione and Ron were sitting on a neighboring bed, trying to do their best to be out of the way of Madam Pomfrey and still be at hand in case Harry needed them.

"What happened?" he asked.

Everyone seemed to let out a collective trembling breath and Hagrid rocked back onto the bed to his left.  Dumbledore stepped forward.

"What is the last thing you recall, Harry?" he asked.

Harry frowned, thinking.  "I was talking to this woman in a tent."  Everyone started, staring at him.  "What?" he asked, his frown deepening.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione and Ron.  "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, as you can Mr. Potter will be just fine.  I believe its time you went off to your next class."

Ron's mouth fell open as he and Hermione stared at the headmaster in disbelief, then they both started speaking at once.  "You call that okay-"

"But sir, we want to help-"

"Quickly now," Dumbledore cut in.  "You don't want to be late."

Ron and Hermione continued to voice their objections as Madame Pomfrey shooed them out.  A great snuffling turned Harry's attention to the half-giant beside him.  Hagrid looked terribly upset, tears streaking down his cheeks to disappear in his scraggly beard.

"I'm sorry, Harry.  I shouldna let ye anywhere near such a dangerous snake."  Then, much to Harry's consternation, Hagrid began bawling like a wounded hound.  Harry's eyes widened.

"Er, its okay, Hagrid.  It's not your fault.  It's not even the snake's fault.  Malfoy was the one who bumped into me."

"Ah, yes.  Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said.  "I assure you he will be dealt with later.  But, for now I would like to speak to Harry about what happened."

"Of course, Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve as he stood.  "I'll just go and take care of that naga."  He turned and walked out of the hospital wing.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore.  The headmaster sat on the edge of the bed, watching Harry.  The younger wizard shifted under the scrutiny.  "So you remember what happened in class, then?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded.  "I was petting the naga when Malfoy shoved me into the crate.  The naga bit me in pain because I accidentally poked it in the eye."  Harry's eyes slid down to his bandaged wrist.

"And what of this woman in a tent?  When did you see her?" Dumbledore pressed gently.  Harry described to him the desert and the woman and the vision he had in her water basin.  Dumbledore nodded, his eyes slightly distant.  "Very interesting.  I'm afraid I do not know exactly who this woman is, Harry, but I do have a curious idea.  If I'm right, then you have made yourself an powerful ally."

Harry frowned.  "The woman?  But sir, she was just a dream I had."

Dumbledore smiled at him, his eyes twinkling.  "I thought we had learned not to ignore your dreams.  I am going to look into this.  In the meantime, I suggest you do as Madame Pomfrey tells you so that you'll be ready to meet your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  I know how excited you get to see who it is."  Harry scowled, grumbling under his breath about some of the hideous professors they had, paying special attention to Umbridge from fifth year.  Dumbledore chuckled than left, intending to look into the meaning behind his student's vision.


	5. Converstaions

A/N: Sorry this took so long, everyone! DADA is next and I'm far more inspired to write that, so the next chapter shouldn't take long. A big THANK-YOU to everyone who reviewed. You guys are the best! And yes, coconut-ice agent h/h, you may borrow Draco, but have him back in time for potions class. ;-D As for why Ron and Hermione had to leave, since when are they ever allowed to stay?

One more note. The references to Egyptian mythology are based on what I know off the top of my head. I'm sorry if I'm wrong.

*****

Harry slowly made his way towards Gryffindor Tower, ignoring the students who wandered the halls. Most students were in class but some, like him, had a free period. Hogwart's gossips must have been working overtime, Harry thought to himself as a few students eyed him as he walked by. It amazed and irritated him how a school this large could have so many students spread all over the place, in class no less, and the gossip still managed to fly. Petrify a couple of students and no one sees anything, but get into a fight or break up with your girlfriend and there are fifteen hundred sworn witnesses by lunch.

Madame Pomfrey had released him on the condition that he take it easy over the next day or two. He had apparently lost a lot of blood and had to be given a restorative potion to gain it back. He was to report back to the hospital wing if he became dizzy or nauseous. After dinner, he needed to go back regardless and take another potion. Harry sighed to himself. First day of class and he had already had a near death experience. At this rate, Harry might be dead or unconscious before he even meets the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, let alone be attacked by him.

Harry paused before the Fat Lady, eyeing the portrait warily. This was also Ron's free period and he'll want to know what happened. Luckily, Hermione was in her Arithmancy class so Harry could explain to Ron that he only wants to tell the story once and that would buy him some time. Harry frowned. What was he worried about? Ron was his best mate, after all. Why wouldn't he want to tell him?

Harry sighed again, his eyes slipping closed. Maybe he could take a nap before lunch. He was so tired.

"Are you just going to stand there all day? That's very inconsiderate, you know," the Fat Lady said. Harry opened his eyes. She was standing there, looking down on him with a disapproving expression.

"Feline animagus," Harry said.

"About time." The portrait swung open and Harry stepped through.

The common room was practically empty, the scarlet and gold furniture and décor looking almost lonely without the light of a fire or companionship of students. The silence that dominated the usually active room had, in the beginning of sixth year, creeped Harry out so badly that he avoided the place during his free periods. After a while, however, the quiet had come to be a kind of treat. Solitude was a very rare thing at Hogwarts, especially living with four other boys. It wasn't that Harry enjoyed being by himself, exactly. He had spent so much time alone at the Dursley's that he found the presence of others to be very comforting. It was difficult to find time to oneself so, when a person got the time, they took advantage of it.

The common room wasn't completely empty, however. Just as Harry had expected, Ron was pacing the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. As Harry walked in, Ron turned, favoring his friend with a look that clearly said he had taken far to long to get here. It was a look so similar to Hermione's from that morning that Harry burst out laughing. Ron frowned.

"What's so funny?"

Harry tried to calm himself, holding his stomach. "You- you look just… like Hermione…" He continued to laugh.

Ron blinked owlishly at him for a moment then looked at himself. Surprise blossomed across his face as he realized what he was doing. This, of course, resulted in Harry laughing harder. Ron's frowned deepened.

"It's not that funny," he grumbled at him, moving to cross his arms over his chest. He seemed to realize that this was also something Hermione did often for he froze halfway through the act then dropped his arms. He swung them uselessly for a moment, unsure of what he could do without ending up looking like his girlfriend. Harry collapsed to the floor, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.

"Fine," Ron said, eyeing Harry on the floor. "Laugh it up. I'll just tell Hermione you were laughing at her."

"Not-" Harry gasped out, trying to control himself.

"Who do you think she's going to believe? Her boyfriend, or you?" Ron asked.

Harry snickered at him. "Me." He wiped the tears from his cheeks, chuckling to himself. "After that bet this morning, she'll trust you about as far as she can throw you."

"Uh, Harry, she's a witch. She could throw me pretty far," Ron pointed out.

Harry shrugged, leaning back on his heels, still grinning at the red head. "Whatever."

"I can't believe you told her about that bet," Ron said, leaning against the back of a large scarlet sofa. "That's an awful thing to do to a chap, especially since it was your idea."

"That reminds me," Harry said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Where's my cut?"

Ron glared at him. "On your bed. I should have kept it until you apologized."

Harry waved him off. "She'll get over it, Ron. It's not like you've never been on her bad side." Harry thought back to the brief conversation he'd had with Hermione that morning. "Besides, she would have figured it out eventually anyways."

They were silent for a moment. Harry mentally counted down the seconds. "You know I'm going to ask Harry, so you might as well start talking," Ron said.

Seventeen seconds. Not bad. "Can it wait?" Harry asked. Ron opened his mouth to speak but the smaller wizard interrupted. "I'm going to tell you, Ron. I just want to know if it can wait until Hermione is here so I only have to tell it once."

Ron peered at him. "Are you feeling any better, mate? You're looking a little peaky."

Harry ran a hand over his face. Now that Ron mentioned it, he didn't feel so well. "I just need to go lie down." He carefully climbed to his feet, grasping the sofa firmly as the room spun around him. He swallowed, closing his eyes to fight the nausea and dizziness. His legs felt weak and it was all he could do not to slip back to the floor. He must have lost more blood than he had thought.

"Maybe you should go back to the hospital wing," he heard Ron suggest. He started to shake his head and stopped when the dizziness intensified.

"I just need to lie down," he said, carefully taking a step forward towards the boys' dormitories. His right arm was pulled over Ron's shoulders as the taller boy helped him to bed. It was fortunate that he had a free period. Harry thought it was entirely possible that he may have passed out in class if he had attended one. Malfoy would never have let him live that down.

The two boys carefully climbed the stairs to the seventh year dorm room. It was empty, everyone else in various classes. Ron walked Harry over to his bed. "I'll wake you in time for lunch," Ron said as he watched Harry climb onto the bed.

"Thanks," Harry said, lying down. He was out almost immediately.

*****

Soft hands ran over Harry's forehead. It was incredibly comforting, causing Harry to feel a safe warmth in his chest. He nuzzled deeper into his pillow, sighing under the caress. He tried to will himself back to sleep.

"Harry?" a soft, feminine voice said. Harry whimpered indistinctly. He didn't want to wake up. The gentle fingers brushed his hair back off his forehead. "Harry, it's time for lunch." Harry frowned slightly. Lunch? He carefully opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light of the sun. He saw a large blur of red and a smaller blur of black and brown. The gentle hands placed his glasses back on his nose. Now that he could see, he noticed that the hands belonged to Hermione.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, swallowing against his dry throat. A hand passed him a glass of water. He looked up at Ron as he took a sip. He turned back to Hermione. "What are you doing up here?"

"You wanted us to wake you up in time for lunch," Ron said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Hermione eyed Harry critically. "About lunch, Harry. Are you sure you want to go? We could always bring you something back."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Do I really look that bad?"

"Not bad, exactly…" Ron muttered.

"You just look tired and pale," Hermione continued. She smiled at him. "Besides, if you pass out in front of Malfoy, he'll never let you live it down."

Harry paused, frowning at her. "Stop reading my mind. It's irritating."

She grinned at him. "I'm not reading your mind. I just know you." Her grin faded. "What would you like us to bring back?"

Harry sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "I'll go with you," he said, slowly slipping off the bed beside her. "I need to go to the hospital wing anyways." He grimaced. "Madame Pomfrey said that if I feel dizzy or nauseous I should go and see her."

Hermione stood up, holding out a hand to help him stand. "We'll go with you and you can tell us about this woman."

Harry groaned. "I knew there was a reason you were being nice to me."

"It couldn't just be that we like you?" Hermione asked.

Harry snorted. "What has that got to do with anyting?"

"So tell us about this woman," Ron said, grabbing his and Hermione's bag. They all walked out of the dorm. Harry looked around for people.

"Everyone's at lunch," Hermione said. "We checked on our way up."

"I just wanted to be sure no one over heard this," Harry replied. "For some reason, people have a tendency to over-react when I mention speaking Parseltongue."

"Can't imagine why," Ron said, looking a little green.

They left the tower, Harry telling them all about his dream. He described everything to them, his clothes, what the woman said, what she looked like, and his vision. When he finished, he glanced at the both of them. Ron looked pale while Hermione was thoughtful. "You had You-Know-Who's eyes?" Ron asked, his voice shaking slightly. Both Harry and Hermione glared at him. "What?" he said, looking between the two.

"After all these years, you still can't bring yourself to say 'Voldemort', can you?" Hermione said, her tone colored with scorn.

"You've only been beating into me for six years. 'You-Know-Who' was beaten into me for eleven years before that. Which do you think is going to win?"

Hermione ignored him. "Would you say that she looked Egyptian?" she asked Harry. He shrugged.

"Yeah, I suppose so. Why?"

"The way you described her," Hermione replied. "The look sounded Egyptian and that would narrow our field of research."

"So, what are we looking for exactly?" Ron asked. "A Dark Egyptian Queen?"

"Not exactly. We're more likely looking for something in relation to serpents in Ancient Egyptian mythology."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance. "Why?" Ron asked.

"The Ancient Egyptian faith had many animals in it. Most of the gods even had animal-like characteristics, the most common being the head of an animal," Hermione said, her tone matter-of-fact.

"They wore animal heads?" Ron asked, slightly disgusted.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Considering the Ancient Egyptian religion held some of the oldest forms of magic, you would think that you would know more about the subject, Ron. The gods had animal heads. For example, Horus had the head of a falcon, Thoth, the head of an ibis, and Anubis had the head of a canine."

Harry, who had been quietly listening, frowned at Hermione. "Please tell me that you don't believe that this woman was an Egyptian goddess."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I sincerely doubt it."

"Good," Harry replied. "It's hard enough being the Boy-Who-Lived without adding He-Who-Sees-Ancient-Dark-Snake-Goddesses to my list of credits."

Hermione frowned. "Where do you two get these ideas? And besides, if it was a goddess, who says she is dark? The serpent gods of Egypt were associated with rebirth, fertility, and the Nile River." They all stopped before the doors to the hospital wing. "Anyway, I don't think it is an Egyptian goddess, I just think that cross-referencing Ancient Egypt with snakes and Parseltongue may give us a clue as to who this woman is or what she symbolizes." With that, Hermione pushed open the hospital wing door and walked inside.

"What do you mean, what she symbolizes?" Ron called after her. There was no reply. Ron and Harry looked at each other. "Did you follow that?" Ron asked.

"Not quite," Harry replied. "I'm still unclear if we are researching immortal, but not divine, serpents of Ancient Egypt or their appearance in dreams in relation to people who speak Parseltongue."

"Well," Ron sighed, following Hermione. "As long as we're both confused."


End file.
